they call me byecurious yhe way im always a little interested in leaving👋

t.s - the prophecy 🌙🖤

yeah I’m into that freak shit like holding hands and cuddling and forehead kisses

I gotta get my hoe phase underwear out of storage.

— Edna St. Vincent Millay, from a letter to Arthur Davison Ficke featured in Savage Beauty: The Life of Edna St. Vincent Millay.

the right hairstyle for your face is the one that makes you smile when you see yourself in the mirror btw.

Making someone feel seen, heard and understood is the loudest way to love them.

the "gifted kid" to "likes being called stupid in a sexual way" pipeline

obsessed with characters being saved against their will. being knocked unconscious and carried away from a danger they won't stop trying to fight. being shoved through a portal somewhere far away and safe right before it closes. trying to self-sacrifice only to have the exact person they're trying to save swap their places at the last second. getting the only cure to the disease or curse bc the person administering it loves them too much to give it to anyone else, including themselves. being thrown to safety right as they had accepted dying. someone else they thought had gotten to safety running back to drag them out of danger. it's so fucking tasty

the prophecy - taylor swift

oh my goodness, one of dian fossey’s first close up observations with gorillas happened when she was trying to climb a tree to see them better, but so badly that by the time she’d gotten up the entire group had come out of hiding to look at her: “Nearly all members of the group had totally exposed themselves, forgetting about hiding coyly behind foliage screens because it was obvious to them that the observer had been distracted by tree-climbing problems, an activity they could understand.”

how do you guys feel about the fact that these two characters exist in the same universe

i don't know how to flirt so i just stare at you like a cat dragged out of a dumpster and hope you can see the longing in my panicked gaze

Never understood the collective vehement resentment of small talk lol i hate the painful grind of small talk as much as the next person but i think id rather shrivel up and die than be denied nuggets of joy found in standing in an elevator and having a middle aged woman compliment my nails or bonding fleetingly with a cafegoer over the city's temperamental weather it's so integral to nurturing & cultivating the soul i think